History Revisited
by Metronomeblue
Summary: Captain Swan History Repeating role-swapped. Killian is the one to get his heart ripped out on the Jolly Roger, and it is Emma who is left behind to grieve.
1. Burning With My Heart

A/N: So I've wanted to do this for a while now, and I figured now was as good a time as any.

Emma wakes up late, and it's nice. She smiles, nuzzling her head back into the pillow. Killian's arms are around her waist, hook warm and flat against her stomach, fingers spread wide. She turns in his embrace, so that they're face-to-face.

"Hello," he mumbles, mouth half-squished into the pillow, and she smiles again, so wide it's painful.

"Hey."

"You were up late last night," he pulls her in tighter and she follows.

"Cora left us a mess and I was trying to fix it," she sighs, defeat still ringing in her ears, and it makes her tense and bitter. He presses a kiss to her forehead, now not even pretending to be half-asleep.

"We'll find her soon, love," she wants to shake off the kisses he's still pressing into her hair, but they're nice and she's too tired anyway.

"I know." She looks at him for a moment, really looks, and then sits up. She grasps his hand and hook, slides her legs onto the floor and with all the force she can muster, attempts to pull him up too. He shutters his face, makes it stony and emotionless, eyes closed and legs limp against the mattress. She pulls harder, and her feet slide towards the bed even as her arms move farther back.

Eventually, as he chuckles and tries in vain to say in bed, she pulls him out. Emma overbalances, and he lands on top of her, knee between her legs and hand and hook pinning hers. The smile stays on his face, and she presses short kisses to his chin to make him laugh even more.

"Stop, lass!" He fidgets away, laughing still, "Stop! I surrender!"

"There is no surrender!" She blurts, both of them on their knees now. "Only winning!"

"Ew," Henry says good-naturedly from the doorway. "Couples." Emma begins to laugh herself as she hears Snow and David giggling sheepishly down the hall. "Couples everywhere." Killian is lying back on the floor, wheezing with laughter. Emma stands.

"One day you'll see, kid," Emma ruffles his hair, "You'll get a girlfriend and Kil and I'll be the ones moaning about being third and fourth wheels."

Henry sniffs at the air and turns abruptly, changeable as children are.

"I smell pancakes!" He yells, taking off down the hall where Snow and David giggle back and forth.

"Come on," Emma reaches out her hands to her still-wheezing boyfriend. "Best not to miss the pancakes."

"I can think of a few other things I'd rather not miss," he jokes, even as he throws an arm around her waist and walks her down the hall.

Killian's leaning over the railing, and Emma does, too. She's not looking at the waves, though, she's watching him, the way his eyes trace them up and down, a heartbeat he can't break free from. The ocean is a part of him, a learned and much loved part, seawater like blood in his veins. He glances in her direction and sees her looking.

"Hello, love," he says softly, reaching up to trace one finger down her cheek. She leans into the touch, a smile coming all too easily to her lips, and she can hardly remember what she was worried about a moment ago. He smiles back, the scar on his cheek tugging up with the faint lines at the corners of his eyes.

"I love you," she says, and it's the first time. He doesn't pause, like Neal did, doesn't hardly react except to smile wider, truer and murmur back.

"As I love you."

And for a moment, everything was perfect.

And then it wasn't anymore, because Emma was flat on her back, and not on the Jolly Roger, and her head was ringing. She could feel her skull vibrating and when she reached up to try and still it, her hands ached. There was rough wood beneath her, and she knew she was still at the docks. The ringing subsided a little and she sat up. Her hand scraped against the wood, and the sting reminded her of what wasn't there.

Killian.

She rolled herself over, so her knees were resting on the ground. And then she stood. Emma had to spin a bit, trying to move forward, to not fall over, to find out what the hell had just happened. She took one step in the direction she thought she'd come from, then another, then another.  
She built up speed until she was flat-out running. The dock seemed to go on forever, stride after stride, until the wind was pushing her breath to the back of her throat and her legs felt like they would crumble away into stone, into sand.

When she reached the ship she skidded, mounted the ramp in three steps. Emma came to the deck breathless and desperate. What she saw would have stolen her breath anyway, so she supposed, in hindsight, it was a good thing.

Cora's hand was wrist-deep in Killian's chest. He was hanging a few feet in the air, like a puppet dancing on strings. Emma tried to run towards them, but her feet wouldn't move. She struggled, and the movement must have caught Killian's eye, because his neck twisted at what seemed a painful angle to lock eyes with her.

"Emma," he whispered, and she tried again in vain to move forward. Cora twisted her arm, and his whole body stiffened, a cry of pain wrenched from his mouth, wide in pain and shock. Her smile was blood-red and sinister, and she wrenched Killian's heart from his chest with unholy glee.

"You should have seen this coming, dear," she said kindly. "Leaving me for that Swan girl."

He grit his teeth and made a forward movement, but her spell held him fast. Cora's blissful expression was unchanging as her perfectly manicured nails dug into his heart. Emma, pressed up against some invisible glass, could only watch as her hand pressed and pressed. AS her nails began to dig into her palm and sand and dust flowed from her hand. Killian dropped to the floor, strings cut, and Cora waved an absent-minded hand at Emma.

The glass shattered, and Emma fell forward. She let out a strangled cry, and crawled forward to Killian. Cora shot her a smug look and vanished, but she was too busy dragging herself forward.

"Killian," she whispered, hoarse and raw and crying. "Killian?" He was barely breathing, shallow rise and fall of his chest trembling and laboriously slow.

"Emma, love," he rattled out, a smirk gracing his face even still. "Don't you cry now."

"I-" Her throat closed up as her mouth opened, and she could only sob, pulling his head into her lap. "I-!" He reached up, clutching blindly for her hand. Emma felt she was in physical pain, her whole skeleton feeling cracked and broken.

"There, love, there." His eyes were getting far away, and he stared up at her face as though she was heaven itself.

"You can't-" She bent over him, her hair falling around their faces as though to keep anyone else from intruding. His fingers stroked her hand, rhythmically, slow. "You can't just leave," she sobbed, her tears splashing against his face. _"I love you!"_

"As I love you," he repeated, breath rasping painfully through his lungs. He inhaled again, and Emma breathed with him.

But when she breathed out, he didn't move again.

"You can't leave me!" She yelled. "Please," her fingers were grasping, gently, oh so gently, at his hair, pulling it back. She needed to see his eyes. She need to see- she

"Please," Emma sobbed, hands tangling around his throat. "Killian, _please_." The wind was quiet now, and she could hear the waves. In, out. Out, in, out. Like breathing, she thought. Just like breathing. His hair was soft in her hands, like the best paint brushes or the oldest scarves. Her breath wouldn't come in, and she felt she was choking on her own voice. "I love you." There was no answer but the waves and the wind, and Emma buried her face in his shoulder.

_"Killian."_

A/N: So I felt that would be a good place to stop for today.


	2. Another One Bites The Dust

A/N: Everything that happened last chapter was real. Everything.

~c/s~

The ambulance sirens went through Emma's head, bright blue and red in neon noise.

She knew it was too late to save Killian, she knew the moment Cora had reached into his chest, but Emma wasn't big on giving up. Although maybe she should have been. She couldn't seem to look up from her hands, her eyes tracing the lines and splotches of silver dust, the tiny, tiny pieces that used to be his heart. She had called the police about ten, maybe fifteen minutes after Killian died, not quite managing to move until then. It was almost peaceful, his head heavy and trudting in her lap, the zen-like background of waves and sea gulls. She could hear footsteps scraping up towards her, and she tensed. When Mary-Margaret- Snow-'s boots were within her peripheral vision, Emma relaxed and still didn't look up.

"Emma, it wasn't your fault," her mother said quietly, placing a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. Snow allowed for a moment of silence to let this sink in. Emma nodded, her jaw setting and her eyes frosting over.

"No." She spat out, finally looking up. "It was Cora's." She stood abruptly and stalked away from the docks, away from the ambulances and the sea gulls and waves. She clenched her fists and remembered the feeling of Cora's fingers fumbling blindly around her ribs.

"Emma!" Snow called frantically, jogging after her daughter. "Emma, you can't just hunt Cora down!"

"_Try and stop me_," she muttered, blonde hair tangling in the haze of fury and wind that surrounded her. Regina's head snapped up two miles away, and Gold smiled a slick grin in his shop, turning his sign to 'closed'. The wind increased, whistling angrily against any resistance it met.

"Snow?" David asked, skidding to a halt beside his wife. "What's going on?"

"Hook is dead," she put a hand to her mouth. "Emma's... She's not right." He bent over, the wind knocked from him. He had wanted to strangle the pirate, maybe punch him once or twice, but Hook had been a good man, and good for Emma. It was a damn near impossible thing to imagine, Killian Jones dead.

But then, there was no need to imagine.

Emma and the weather both grew angrier, more forceful. The rain dropped in buckets, not drops and the wind blew in gales. The sky was an ominous ink-blue, clouds gathered like spectators, air pressure rising as tempers did.

Emma stood in an alley near the dock, gathered every inch of magic in her, and pushed. Cora flew, in a cloud of purple smoke, onto the pavement, forcefully ejected from her hiding place. She looked up at Emma, at the golden girl wreathed in fog and rain and ice and anger, and tried to run. Emma pushed harder, and Cora tried to crawl.

"You killed him," Emma walked calmly over to Cora, stopping just short of her. "Why."

"Because I wanted to see what that would make of you," Cora sneered, and Emma nodded.

She flicked her hand, instinct and fury melding into accuracy. A sword bloomed from her hand.

"There's your mistake."

David and Snow caught up to her, just in time to see her step back, sword dripping blood and dead witch at her feet. She looked at them, eyes an eerie grey, and then stumbled, dropping her sword.

"I think I should stop now," Emma mumbled, leaning on her father's shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," he murmured, catching her as she fell unconscious. "I think so, sweetheart."

~c/s~

Killian's funeral was small, the majority of town shunning him- even dead- because of what he'd done to Belle. Emma cried. So did Snow. Henry stared blankly at the grave stone, unsure of what to do.

"I'm gonna miss you," Emma whispered as the others went to bring the car around. "I'm going to miss you so much, Killian." She bent forward the last inch to rest her forehead against the cool stone. "I'll be back soon."

"Mom! We're back!"

"Love you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to her hand, then to his name. His _real_ name, which she had flat-out insisted be written on his grave. No 'Hook' anywhere.

_Captain Killian James Jones._

"Mom?" Henry asked, naivete in every letter.

"I'm coming," she called, letting the tears fall quietly down her cheeks. "I'm coming."

Then, with a quiet, painful smile, she stood, brushed her knees off, and wiped her tears away.

She'd be back later, anyway.

~c/s~

Wow. I hurt myself a little.


End file.
